


Steal My Heart

by angelswatchingover



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Based on a Tumblr Post, Dean is a thief, Fluff, M/M, who ends up stealing Cas' heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 01:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8125219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelswatchingover/pseuds/angelswatchingover
Summary: Castiel is 19, living on his own with no job, no family, and no friends. That is until Dean Winchester breaks into his apartment to rob him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on [a Tumblr post](http://thestirge.tumblr.com/post/150057241864/so-i-heard-this-story-second-hand-many-years-ago), you know one of those - imagine your OTP kind? The prompt just screamed young Dean and Sam as little street rats, gambling, drinking, and stealing to survive, but with big hearts that still can't resist saving people. This is kind of a warm up to get me back into the writing groove so I can finish up my WIPs. Hope you enjoy.

Castiel drags his exhausted feet as he heads back home, despondent over yet another day of searching for work. He had known being on his own would be hard, but five months of living alone, cut off from everyone he had ever known, with his tiny bit of savings nearly used up and he is beginning to feel panic. The Gas-n-Sip interview at least seemed promising, although it’s always difficult to explain no past work experience and no references at all. And it isn’t like he doesn’t have them. He had worked for his parents for years, planning events, coordinating schedules, organizing travel for big name guests, smiling and shaking hands and being the perfect son. 

Angel Ministries had kept him living in the lap of luxury for his entire life. He had grown up in a house that felt like a museum, large and beautiful and cold with no running and no touching the many works of art that adorned the walls and decorated the perfect rooms. They had a live-in chef to prepare their meals and a staff to take care of the house, pool, and grounds. He had never even learned to drive since everywhere he traveled was in the back of a long black luxury car or on the family jet. His parents, Zachariah and Naomi, wore perfect faces that everyone in the country recognized (well, everyone in the south and any Christian that ever watched TV). Their “not for profit” televangelism empire had made them rich.

It had all come crashing down for Castiel, though. He was just a few months into his first year of college, his first experience attending school with other students. Growing up traveling around the world for his parent’s speaking engagements, he had been homeschooled, sheltered from viewpoints outside of his parents’ and free thought, to be honest. He had known practically since puberty that he was gay and had held that secret inside for years, never having met anyone else who would speak out loud about being anything but straight. 

Inias was a soft-spoken boy who he met at school. He was sweet, and smart, and offered to show Castiel around and introduce him to the Young Christians Bible study group. Soon, they began studying together and Castiel had invited Inias back to his house for a cram session for a big Calculus test they had coming up. He hadn’t even known Inias was gay too until the other boy put his books down on the bed and leaned forward, smashing his mouth awkwardly into Castiel’s. He didn’t even think he really liked Inias that way, but the excitement and warmth of someone touching him with such affection had him reaching for Inias and deepening the kiss. 

And, of course, that’s when Naomi walked in, slamming the door behind her to startle the boys apart. _Leave_ , she ordered Inias in a low, dangerous voice, which he did immediately before she turned a disgusted stare at her son. She made him an offer, go to conversion camp and never speak of this incident again, or be disowned if he wanted to continue his sinful life. When he refused camp, he was given fifteen minutes to pack what he needed with a warning that he needed to leave and disappear. She would tell their adoring public that her son was on a two year missionary trip to Africa and pretty soon people would forget that he existed. 

Castiel had done a good job of disappearing. He sometimes felt invisible, even to himself. He couldn’t use his real name or his education or what had once been his trust fund to survive. Struggling to hold back tears, he shoved a suitcase full of some clothes and a few personal items he wanted for himself: his journals, some mementos he had picked up or been gifted in his travels, and anything from his room that could be sold to a pawn shop. He walked out of a sprawling seven-bedroom mansion, the only home he had ever known, leaving Jimmy Castiel Novak behind to become Castiel Milton. He sold his laptop, his gold cross, his class ring and a few other baubles and with the cash, bought a bus ticket to Lawrence, a tracfone, and paid for six months rent on a tiny, unfurnished room above a garage. From the Lawrence Goodwill, he bought a sleeping bag, a hot plate and a couple of cooking necessities, and a shower curtain. Then he carefully divided the remaining cash, which wasn’t much, into six piles, his six month budget, hoping that this would get him through until he found work. 

Life in the little loft was cold, cramped, and lonely. He couldn’t afford a TV so he kept his mind occupied with library books and he survived primarily on PB&J, ramen noodles, and potatoes - the three cheapest foods he could find. He had added a few things to his measly home, mostly items that he had found by dumpsters: a wooden spool for a table, a couple of milk crates as tables, and a crooked lamp that flickered if he walked too close to it. But it was dry and safe and here he was free. 

Which is why Castiel is now beginning to feel desperate for work. He can’t lose this little home he is building. Its all he has. As he ascends the dark staircase to his room, he sends a little prayer to whomever may be listening that the nice lady from the Gas-n-Sip would call him soon. Looking up, he freezes with his key in his outstretched hand, noticing that the door to his room isn’t closed all the way.

His heart beats quickly as he pushes the door all the way open to see a man standing in the middle of the room with his back to him and his hands on his hips. 

“Um… can I help you?” He asks quietly, not wanting to spook this man if he is a dangerous drug addict or unstable.

The man turns around and Castiel notices that he is young, probably his own age, maybe a bit older, with strong broad shoulders covered in at least three layers of clothing. His brown hair is cut short and spiked on the top, and he has what can only be described as a perfect face. Sharp, green eyes over freckle-dusted cheeks focus on Castiel as the man’s arms swing out wide, incredulous.

“This your place?” He asks.

“Yes. Are you with Mr. Chan? Because the rent is fully paid for another month.” Castiel answers. He couldn’t have miscalculated. He knows to the exact date how long he had to come up with more rent money. 

“Naw, dude.” The man shakes his head and chuckles, scratching the back of his neck. “Honestly? I broke in here lookin’ to rob the place. But, man, you’re worse off than I am!”

“You,” Castiel loses his words, confused as to how to respond. “I assure you, I have nothing of value for you to steal.”

“Yeah, no shit. Look at this place.” 

Castiel takes a couple steps in the door and glances around his little home. The room is nearly empty, his blue sleeping bag set neatly against one wall with a milk crate and his lamp beside it for reading. At least there is a little corner closet with a curtain as a door to store his clothes. To his left is the kitchen area with the small ancient refrigerator that came with the room (thank goodness) next to a sink with a countertop with nothing on it but his hot plate. The wooden spool sits awkwardly in the middle of the little room, not quite a kitchen table and not quite a coffee table. 

It’s awful, Castiel knows it, and he feels his face heat up in shame at the idea of even this handsome thief seeing how he lives. He swallows, trying to think of something to say to defend his little home. After all, it’s all he has. 

But before he has a chance to respond, the man holds up a finger. “You know what? Wait here,” he says as if this isn’t Castiel’s home and he the intruder. And before Castiel can respond, the man has brushed passed him, leaving and shutting the door behind him. 

Castiel turns around and makes sure the lock isn’t broken. The man must have known how to pick a lock cleanly because it still works. Another small blessing, he guesses. He certainly couldn’t afford to replace a broken handle or lock. The interaction has him on edge, though. Is he truly safe here? Is the man coming back? Why did he tell him to wait here? His heart is still beating fast and his hands shaking slightly as he changes out of the only suit he brought with him into a soft pair of jeans and a hoodie. Eventually, he is able to settle down, sitting cross-legged on his sleeping bag and getting lost in his latest library book. 

About an hour later, there is a knock on the door. No one ever comes to his door. He has no friends and certainly no family that even know where he is. Apprehensively, he opens the door to the smiling face of the man who tried to rob him earlier. 

“I… I told you, I don’t have anything,” he pleads, hoping that he won’t hurt him to find the few dollars that he has left rolled up and stuffed into a pair of socks. 

“I know,” he says, “that’s why I’m here.”

And that’s when Castiel notices that behind him there is another man, this one just a teenager, standing in the stairwell. He is tall with shaggy brown hair that curls over his ears and bangs that drape nearly to his big kind eyes and he’s holding an old tube television. 

“I don’t understand.”

The handsome man standing in front just shrugs, “Look, me and my brother Sammy,”

“Sam,” the taller boy interrupts.

“Yeah, yeah, Sam. Anyway, we know what it's like to have nothing, and buddy, _you have nothing_. Thought we’d help you out a bit.” Then he pauses and steps a tiny bit closer with a soft smirk. “Or maybe I’m just a sucker for baby blues,” he says with a wink.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Dean, can you stop flirting for one minute so I can put this down?”

Dean huffs, “So, where do you want this stuff?”

Castiel is flabbergasted, “I…” he starts but Dean just barges past after picking up a chair that was behind him signaling Sam to follow.

“Never mind, we’ll figure it out.” He puts down the chair in the kitchen area and tells Sam to put the TV on the spool for now, that they’ll move it once they get everything else in. 

“Stop!” Castiel exclaims, finally finding his voice. “What’s going on!?”

Dean stops and turns towards him, “Look, dude -”

“Castiel.”

“What?”

“My name… it’s Castiel.”

“OK, Castiel… uh, Cas? We just wanna help. We’ve been there,” his voice softens with the first hint of sincerity Castiel has picked up. “Surviving on dumpster food, whore baths, and quick reflexes. It sucks ass. But, I have a way of finding things and you need things, OK?”

“I don’t understand. Is this… could you get in trouble for this?”

Sam laughs, “I doubt anyone is putting our faces on wanted posters for this relic.” He pats the bulky chipped tube TV. “And Dean here fancies himself a bit of a Robin Hood around the neighborhood.” 

Dean eyes Sam at the comment, “Dude, Costner kicks ass. I’ll take it.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of Men in Tights… and almost as gay,” Sam laughs at his own joke.

“Fuck. You.” Dean laughs through a blinding grin. “C’mon, bitch, let’s get the rest of the stuff.”

“There’s more?” Castiel asks as he follows the brothers down the stairs. Once they exit the back door, he sees a large black car. Sticking out of the trunk is a small wooden table with the legs removed and tied in a bundle to the side. There is also another chair and in the backseat he sees a small TV stand and a large cardboard box. And on the front seat sits a case of beer and a large pizza, it’s euphoric smell causing Castiel’s stomach to grumble. He can’t believe what is happening, stunned at the generosity of these strangers. 

They take the items inside, setting the little table and chairs up in the kitchen area and the TV near his sleeping bag. The box holds a cornucopia of things he can use for his home, all obviously used but new to him. He nearly cries as Sam pulls out a small toaster oven, a couple of towels, a fleece blanket, and a coffee maker. 

“Jackpot! Look what Ellen threw in here.” Dean exclaims, holding up a pie.

“Who’s Ellen?” Castiel asks.

“She’s a friend, Sam’s foster mom actually.” Dean grabs a slice of pizza from the box and drops down into one of the chairs turned backwards so he can rest his arms on the back as he eats. 

“A couple years ago, she caught us five-fingering at her bar and gave us a choice,” Sam adds, picking up a slice and folding it in half and hopping up onto the small kitchen counter. “She calls the cops and Dean goes to jail or I let her foster me and get my ass back in school. Dean was 18 and was facing adult time so it was kind of a no brainer. It’s not bad, though. At least I’ve got a roof now and just two more years till graduation.”

“I see,” says Castiel, “So do you both live with her?”

Sam shakes his head, “I live in her house. Dean actually rents the apartment over her bar. She told him he had to pay rent like a respectable member of society as part of the keep-Dean-free plan,” Sam says over a laugh.

“Yeah, keep laughing asshole. At least I’m not on her chore chart. And if she finds out you drank that,” he says pointing to the beer Sam is opening, “you didn’t get it from me.”

“Dean, she’s not going to find out,” Sam says with an eye roll, “and if she does, of course she’s going to assume it was from you.”

“Of fucking course,” Dean grumbles into his own beer. 

“Anyway, she runs a pantry, which is where this stuff came from. We find things and she distributes them to people who do need it.”

Castiel notices the very vague definition of finding things and wisely chooses not to ask any further questions on the matter. The pizza is fantastic, the beer making him a bit happy, and the company even more so.

“Please thank her for me, and I don’t know how I can ever thank the two of you enough,” Castiel tells them, holding back the tears that want to spill. It’s been so long since he has shared a meal and conversation with anyone or even felt like he was seen. For months he has been quietly drifting between this sad little apartment, errands, and applying for jobs. And suddenly these two young men have burst into his home with their laughter and stories and it’s everything he can do to not beg them to be his friend. 

“Don’t mention it,” Dean answers and raises his beer bottle. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

Castiel squints at him, “How did you-”

“Knew the guy who lived here before you. He’s actually the one I was here to rob. Asshole owes me two hundred bucks and he skipped town. This is his last know address so I thought...” Dean shrugs.

“Oh… well, I’m sorry but it was vacant when I answered the ad.”

“Shit, two hundred?” Sam whines, “How’d you let him get that high without seeing the cash?”

Dean grabs another piece of pizza and answers, “Benny said he’d be good for it, that he’d played before and did alright. Guess his luck ran out.”

Sam snorts, “Luck or patented Dean Winchester cheats?”

“Dude, you know waiting for luck is for suckers. You want to win at poker you gotta be good at cheating, ‘cause everyone else is doin’ it too.” Dean turns to address Castiel, “You play?” He looks around the room skeptically, “I’m guessing not.”

Castiel wants to laugh at the mere idea of it. Little Jimmy Novak, the son of the two most famous televangelists in the country and _literal_ choir boy gambling? Not by a long shot.

He gives Dean a hint of a smile, “I’ve never had the occasion.” 

“Dean could teach you,” Sam pipes in excitedly. “He’s the best! He taught me and I clean up at school”

“Dude, I still can’t believe you’ve got an underground gambling ring going on at the high school,” Dean shakes his head fondly at his little brother. “Just don’t get caught or Ellen’s skinning you _and_ me.”

“What?” Sam smiles in feigned innocence, cheeks stuffed with pizza, “The teachers totally think it’s a future lawyers study group. A little poker can’t even hold a candle to the dirty shit lawyers do.”

“Touche,” Dean laughs. “And speaking of school, I’ve got to get you home.” Turning to Castiel he adds, “Brainiac here is in AP everything so as much fun as it’s been hanging out with you, Cas, this one’s probably got like five books to read tonight.”

Castiel feels his heart sink in disappointment, although he certainly understands the strain of a rigorous course load. He loves learning and misses school like a physical ache. 

“Thank you again. Your thoughtfulness means more than you will ever know.” he says, getting up from his new table and following the brothers to the door. “And please know you are welcome to visit any time.” 

Sam says his goodbye and heads down the stairs but Dean hesitates at the top step before turning around and planting a quick kiss on Castiel’s lips. It’s over before he has a chance to even react and Dean is bounding down the stairs hollering back, “See you soon, Cas.”

Castiel brings his hand to his mouth, unable to move another muscle, unsure if that really happened. Has this vivacious, generous, gorgeous man just waltzed into his life and kissed him? Why? Should he follow him down the stairs and ask what that was about? Will he even ever see Dean again? He didn’t even get a phone number, not that he could frivolously use his limited minutes he needs for employers. Eventually, he hears the rumble of that big car pull away and he is left with nothing but questions, and the warm fluttering in his stomach and that hope that maybe he had finally found a friend and his life may just start looking up.

~*~

The following day, Dean shows up with an old DVD player and a few burned disks. He hooks the player up to the TV and they eat Ellen's pie straight out of the tin over a pirated movie. When Dean leaves, he kisses Cas again, this time it isn't quick. He cradles Cas' face with both hands, tilts his head, and they kiss for several stretched out minutes learning the curves of each other's mouths. Cas is left breathless, eyes fluttering open as Dean smiles fondly at him, pecks him on the tip of his nose, and turns to leave.

~*~

It’s two days later that Dean shows up with a mattress and a bag of fast food burgers that they share sitting cross-legged on his new bed. It’s still just a sleeping bag on a mattress on the floor, but he doesn’t even notice as he listens to Dean talk about his job as a mechanic. And when they lean back against the wall to watch some TV, the backs of their hands brush together before Dean twists his hand under Cas’ and entwines their fingers. 

~*~

The next day his phone rings for the first time, startling him so badly he can feel his pulse racing as he tries to catch his breath and lunge for the phone. It’s the Gas-n-Sip and they offer him a real job that will pay enough for him to afford the rent and maybe even a little extra. He wonders if he could take Dean on a date. 

~*~

It’s two weeks later and Dean comes to see him almost every day, always bringing some new thing for his home. A throw rug that keeps his feet from freezing when he gets out of bed, a clock so he will be on time for his new job, a soft old quilt that he said is pretty girly but Ellen had insisted once she heard all he had was a sleeping bag. They eat together - Castiel is becoming pretty good at cooking in his little toaster oven - or they watch movies, but his favorite is when they lay on his mattress together on their sides, facing one another and just talking. It's on one of these days that he finally tells Dean his real name through tears that are kissed away. Dean says he likes Cas better than Jimmy anyway and it’s good that he left that life behind or they never would have met. 

~*~

It’s on a rainy day in April, five weeks after they meet, that Dean cries in his arms as he tells Castiel about his mother, who died in a fire and his father, who turned to alcohol, dragging his two young boys around with him, often leaving them for days or weeks at a time to survive alone. They kiss with everything they have and make love for the first time as the storm rages outside of his little window.

~*~

In May Sam turns sixteen and Dean decides that he is going to teach both of them to drive. There is yelling, and laughter, and some unnecessarily dramatic kissing of the ground as Dean stumbles out of the passenger side door after the first lesson. The day that Cas passes his test, he drives Dean’s Impala out to a wheat field that waves like a golden ocean and he fucks Dean in the back seat. It’s cramped and awkward and messy and perfect in every way. 

~*~

It’s two years later and Castiel holds Dean steady as they watch Sam get on an airplane bound for Stanford. Dean is shaking and can’t swallow but Cas’s hand in his grounds him so Sam can’t tell. Once Sam is out of sight, Dean hands him the keys. He knows he won’t be able to see the road through blurred eyes. Cas drives them back to their apartment over Ellen’s bar and never lets go of his hand. 

~*~

That summer is their worst fight ever. Naomi calls and Dean breaks a glass throwing it against a wall when Cas says he’ll see her. While Cas is sitting with his head hung, holding back tears, Dean wraps his arms around him from behind and kisses apologies into the back of his neck. “They can give you everything and I’m terrified you’ll go back with them. I’m just a mechanic and we live over a bar. I can’t give you what they can,” he says, voice shaking. It’s a strained visit. Ellen glares at Naomi, daring her to step out of line. She doesn’t and she leaves with the tenuous threads of forgiveness stretched between them.

~*~

It’s five years later and Cas is unpacking the boxes, putting things away in their new home. It’s a small red brick craftsman home with half an acre of shaded yard and it’s their heaven. They promised themselves that once Cas graduated (his parent’s favorite show of love is with a checkbook so he gratefully accepted their help with school) and Dean got manager, they would buy a house. The evening sun is shining in as Cas admires the view of the sunset over their back yard. Dean snakes his arms around him and nuzzles into his neck.

“You know, I’m sure glad you tried to rob me that day,” Cas grins.

“And I’m sure glad you were living in such squalor I had to save your ass.” 

“My hero,” Cas laughs.

“I want to always take care of you,” he says as he slides a ring onto Cas’ finger. “Marry me?”

Cas looks down at his hand, shocked at the simple silver band now adorning his finger as his hand rests on Dean’s palm. “Of course I will,” he whispers and pulls Dean’s arms tightly around his middle. He turns in Dean’s arms and kisses his fiance. “You did steal one thing that day, you know? My heart.”

“God, you’re corny,” Dean groans.

“You love me for it,” Cas whispers against his lips.

“Yeah, I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I'd love your feedback. 
> 
> Also, you can find me on Tumblr at [AngelsWatchingOver.Tumblr.com](http://angelswatchingover.tumblr.com/)


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